


The Sun Lay Across the Bed

by an_aphorism



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Body Worship, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Dirty Talk, Getting Together, Half-Galra Keith (Voltron), Insecurity, Lingerie, M/M, Soft filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22940269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_aphorism/pseuds/an_aphorism
Summary: The contents of the box are soft, near silky. Keith pulls it up out of the obscuring paper and—Instead of keys to a brand new set of hoverbikes, there’s… underwear. Lingerie to be specific. It’s delicate, lacy. Beautiful. The whole box is full of it. Keith frowns. He definitely didn’t order this. He definitely, definitely, didn’t order this. He reaches, in horror, for the top of the box package that he’d torn away without reading.On the front, in clear text, is the recipient: T. S.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 77
Kudos: 454





	The Sun Lay Across the Bed

**Author's Note:**

> additional tags: a tiny bit of blood near the end, but all in good fun.

They sort of fall into living together after the war. There’s so much to do, and it’s just easier if they don’t have to maintain a space alone.

Frankly, Keith is happier anyway keeping Shiro in his sights. It’s peacetime, but there’s still a persisting fear inside him, something spined that itches at him that surely, surely it’s not over. In the next room, in the next moment, there will be something threatening to tear them apart once more, so it’s better to keep Shiro close.

It’s a roommates thing. Roommates, who share meals and laundry and dishes and movie nights in. They share bath supplies and laughter and leftovers. But not bedrooms. Not beds.

Keith tries not to think about it when he’s lying in his bed in a bedroom across from Shiro’s. It wouldn’t take anything at all to walk across the boundary and let himself in. He could do it at any moment.

Except… whatever tension they’d been running with during the war has now dropped off. Keith concludes that he let it wait too long. After the war he’d been too afraid that it was too soon, too afraid of the burden, of the potential rejection.

And now they’re roommates. It feels like before Kerberos, and Keith _knows_ that Shiro wasn’t holding any torches for him back then. He knows.

So Keith dedicates himself to being the best possible roommate. He’s tidy, minimal, and doesn’t wait to be prompted to help with chores. With Shiro’s busy schedule, Keith also takes care of the shopping. He orders the grocery and all the odds and ends that make up a home that neither of them had from their time in space. Slowly but surely, Keith’s made this into a cozier space for them. A home that Shiro can come back to and relax. 

Keith enjoys doing it, even as Shiro fusses that it’s not fair that Keith is doing so much. It’s nice to give Shiro things, even when it’s as small and inconsequential as an expensive shampoo or a new throw pillow.

Plus it’s a benefit at times like these when Shiro’s birthday is two days off, and Keith needs to sneak some birthday goodies into the house. In the grocery order that week it’s all too easy for Keith to add little gifts and sweets in the cart. It’s the perfect set up, because even if Shiro magically had the time, Keith’s the one who gets the mail and picks up the deliveries from Imports.

The next afternoon when Keith finishes his last meeting, he rushes to their mailbox to do just that. Shiro is working late so he can be off tomorrow, which will give Keith plenty of time to get everything ready. The plans aren’t _romantic_ per say, but friends can give friends a nice dinner and chocolate strawberries, can’t they? Shiro loves a good meal and dessert, and Keith plans to treat him to just that.

Their mailbox is stuffed full. Keith loads up the packages, making a quick stop at Imports for their grocery and the rest of the packages. He hauls it all, arms stuffed full, back to their apartment.

There’s a recipe bookmarked that Keith found last week, and the excitement of it is beginning to fizzle in his chest. He’s no cook like Hunk, but he read the directions carefully and he knows he can do this. He will. For Shiro.

Inside, Keith makes quick work tearing the packages open. He finds all the food he ordered, some Voltron branded socks, a new board game that reminded Keith of Monsters & Mana, and…

He grasps for the last package. It’s small, but Keith knows that it has the best prize. It’s maybe too much for a birthday gift from a friend, but Keith hadn’t been able to help himself.

(And the money they’d given him for his work post-war had been frankly obscene. Keith saw no better way to spend it than on Shiro.)

He tears heedlessly at the box, grinning in his own excitement. There’s tissue paper and he shreds it, hands closing around a set of keys—

Wait.

No.

The contents of the box are soft, near silky. He pulls it up out of the obscuring paper and—

Something in his brain glitches.

Instead of keys to a brand new set of hoverbikes, there’s… underwear. _Lingerie_ to be specific. It’s delicate, lacy. _Beautiful_. The whole box is full of it. Keith frowns. He definitely didn’t order this. He definitely, definitely, didn’t order this. He reaches, in horror, for the top of the box package that he’d torn away without reading.

On the front, in clear text, is the recipient: T. S.

Initialized for privacy, it doesn’t take anything for Keith to know who the intended recipient of this package was.

Keith’s opened a package of lingerie intended for one _Takashi Shirogane._

_Fuck._

##

Keith doesn’t _panic_ per say, but he definitely starts to spiral. The packaging is completely destroyed, and there’s no coming back from that. There’s no way that Shiro won’t know that Keith went through his mail.

There’s no way that Shiro won’t know that he went through his mail and discovered that Shiro ordered—

Because now looking at the sizing, it’s clear that Shiro bought it for himself. Trim panties, but bralettes with wider bands. One-piece lacy things that are sized to account for someone with a large… chest. Keith’s hands feel like they’re on fire when they touch the material. He drops them back into the table.

It’s too much information, way too much.

_And he’s never going to be able to forget it._

Because now his mind is circling images of Shiro in these things. Does Shiro wear lingerie a lot? Is he wearing some now, under his captain’s uniform?

Keith paces their living room trying to breathe. There’s so much he needs to be doing, preparing, but it’s all fallen to the wayside.

Shiro in lingerie.

_Fuck._

How is Keith supposed to go on with his life now?

He curses himself, the mail delivery system, and the very unsuspecting box that was hiding such catastrophe.

He paces, putting the grocery away, taking Shiro’s other gifts back to his bedroom. He tucks them under his bed to wrap later, still trying desperately to think of a way to salvage this situation.

He could repackage maybe? Get something blank and copy the information on it. It won’t have a valid postage stamp, but maybe if Shiro doesn’t look too close…

Keith hurries back out of his room, sold on this idea instead of resigned to his fate, but stops dead just as he gets to the living room.

Because there is Shiro, overlooking the wreckage of his package. A full body shiver runs down Keith’s spine.

“Shiro!” His voice is tight, too high. “I— I’m so sorry! I can explain!”

Shiro turns to him, and he looks shocked, flushed across the scar on his nose.

“I didn’t check the label,” Keith fumbles, crossing the space. “I’m such an idiot, I was waiting for a package, and I thought that was it, and I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrassing you— not that it’s embarrassing! It’s not! They’re really nice— I mean— oh fuck, please say something before more stupid comes out of my mouth.”

“Keith.”

Keith heaves a breath. His insides are twisted up, hot and awful.

And then, shocking him further, Shiro says. “You think they’re nice?”

It’s… not what Keith thought he was going to say. “Yes. Yeah. Of course.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Keith says.

Shiro looks away then, a bashful move that has Keith leaning in. “It’s just… I wouldn’t have thought. Um. It’s not exactly… for someone like me.”

At this Keith frowns. He can see the slight hunch in Shiro’s shoulders, the way he draws in, won’t even glance at the package on the table. “For someone like you?” The words are too prickly. Keith doesn’t at all like the connotation he’s picking up. “Says who? Lingerie is for anyone who wants to wear it.”

Shiro blinks at him, but his shoulders relax. “Thanks Keith. I haven’t got to… in a while. The war and everything. I thought I would treat myself for my birthday.”

“Yeah.” Something in surging in Keith, a fierce need to make Shiro feel comfortable, to smash down whatever shitty opinions Shiro has previously been given on the subject. “It’s good. I’m glad you could buy yourself something nice. You deserve it. They’re beautiful.” He nods decidedly, daring even Shiro himself to contradict him.

Shiro turns then back to the table, his fingers trailing over the lace.

“And I’m sorry, for opening your package.”

“It’s okay. Really.” Shiro says. His metal fingers pluck at one of the bralette straps and Keith swallows hard. “It’s kind of nice to share. I, um, haven’t before. Wasn’t sure it would be welcome, you know?”

Keith snorts derisively, the anger still simmering in him. He would strangle anyone who even hinted that Shiro should be ashamed of who he is or what he likes. “Anyone who wouldn’t want to see you in those is a fool,” he says.

Shiro makes a sound, his face tilted away just enough to obscure his expression. “…would you?” Comes his voice, too soft. He sounds wondering. Vulnerable. It cracks something in Keith’s chest.

“Would I…?”

“Want to see,” Shiro says.

Holy.

Shit.

There’s no time to doubt himself. The question is a fragile offer, one that asks for acceptance, and Keith would give this man _anything_.

“Yeah,” Keith says. “I would. If you… wanted to show me.”

Shiro nods, more to himself than anything, and then his hands curl around the fabric. “Okay,” he says. He steps away then and heads toward the bathroom.

When the door shuts Keith bends over the table, running a hand through his hair and trying to breathe. His heart is battering in his chest, the possibilities spinning endlessly through his head. Is this really happening? Is Shiro really going to…?

And how the fuck does Keith make sure he doesn’t ruin it?!

Keith goes to the kitchen and gets a glass of water and downs the whole thing. The room is too hot all of a sudden, and his eyes keep going to the door of the bedroom where Shiro disappeared. Is this really going to happen? And what will Keith do about it? Shiro said he would _show him._ What does that mean? Does it even mean anything?

He takes a breath and then another. He needs to calm the fuck down. This is clearly important to Shiro, so Keith will be positive, respectful, encouraging. Friends do this kind of thing… right?

Keith tries not to think too much more on it. His own shit doesn’t matter here. He busies himself with getting out the items for dinner, trying to stay on plan even when it’s all gone so far awry.

Then, a few minutes later Shiro calls for him. Keith’s heart ratchets back up, but his legs take him across the room and to Shiro’s bedroom door.

He pushes it open.

The bedroom is dark, the only light is a golden sunset color coming in through the sliver in the curtains. Keith steps in and follows the line of light to where it bathes Shiro in magnificent gold.

He’s standing in front of his bed, undressed except for a two piece lingerie set. Keith’s doesn’t even breathe, he’s so absolutely struck by the vision.

White lace strains against the wide breadth of Shiro’s body, making him look at once provocative and masculine. Across his chest is a crisscrossing of straps that fan out, highlighting the muscles and dips of Shiro’s body until they meet in the center of the bralette in a metal ring. The straps on the panties draw similar attractive lines around Shiro’s hips, accenting the curve there and drawing Keith’s eyes and imagination to the way they might frame his ass.

Shiro’s dark skin contrasts the white of the fabric, the hugeness of him highlighting how delicate the fabric is. It looks as if one wrong move may tear it completely apart, revealing Shiro’s most private parts to the viewer.

He’s stunning.

Keith’s still gaping.

And then the staring has gone on too long. Shiro crosses an arm across his chest, self-conscious. “Too weird?”

Keith stumbles forward. “No,” he meets Shiro’s eyes with absolute sincerity. “Not weird.”

He tries to swallow, but his throat is dry. He comes closer, helplessly drawn.

“You look amazing,” Keith doesn’t even know what’s he’s saying, he feels as if he’s already over the cliffs edge, jumping the hoverbike for the first time.

Then he’s too close, his hand extended to touch—

“Ah, fuck, I didn’t mean—“

But Shiro’s arm drops out of the way. He’s flushed, expression apprehensive but something else too.

“You can,” he says. “Touch.”

His body tilts just a little, the golden sunlight spreading across his chest and the lace. Keith can just pick out the darker color of his nipple through the sheer fabric.

Keith’s hand lifts, daringly, to the shoulder strap.

“Oh,” it’s silky under his fingers. He knew it was, has already touched it before, but it’s different like this. Different when it’s on Shiro.

His fingers trail down to the lace. It’s soft too, well made. Keith doesn’t know anything about lingerie, but he can just tell that this is an expensive brand.

“This is nice.”

“Y-yeah,” Shiro’s voice is throaty. “Have to go higher end for… my sizing.”

Keith hums. They’re both avoiding eyes now, focused on where Keith is touching. His hands wander across across the lace, more caress than anything else. He feels hot, too hot. “When’s the last time you wore…?”

“Before Adam.”

Keith doesn’t know why the answer catches him so. His finger trips over Shiro’s nipple and—

Shiro doesn’t moan, but there’s a cut off sound that is so close that something electric tingles down Keith’s spine. He tears his hand away.

“Sorry!”

Shiro’s chest heaves in a deep breath. “It’s okay.”

Shiro isn’t much taller than Keith these days, but Keith still has to tilt his head a little to meet Shiro’s eyes standing this close. His pupils are swollen. He looks—

He doesn’t look upset.

“No one has touched me before, like this.” Shiro says it with that same vulnerability as earlier, like some part of him believes no one would _want_ to.

Absolute absurdity.

Keith places his hand down flat on Shiro’s chest, right over his heart. “That’s their loss, Shiro. You look gorgeous like this.”

“Thank you Keith,” he says softly.

They’re still gazing at each other, way too close. Keith can feel the heat of Shiro’s body, and he’s sweating.

Beneath his hand Shiro’s heart is beating hard.

Keith can’t think.

“Thank you, for letting me see. Touch.”

There’s a cute blush across Shiro’s cheeks. Keith likely has a matching one, his insides feel like compressed fire.

Keith watches, inexplicably, as Shiro’s eyes drop down to his mouth. “You could… keep going.”

Then those eyes are back to his. They’re no longer uncertain, but molten.

Keith’s hand slides down across the fabric of the bralette. He knows he skims a nipple again when Shiro shudders, eyes fluttering closed briefly. The power of it sinks claws into Keith. He wants more. He _wants_.

His finger hooks into the metal ring at the center of Shiro’s chest. It’s cold and sturdy, perfect for a lead.

Perfect for a lot of things.

“Do you think we should?” It should be a warning, but the deep tilt to Keith’s voice makes it sound much more obscene. To seal it, his finger tugs once, sharply, on the ring.

Shiro steps forward, closing the last of the distance between them. They’re not quite touching, but the urge to cross that boundary is intoxicating. Shiro’s all bare skin and soft silk, looking like an absolute dream in the golden light. Their faces are so close now that his hot breath puffs across Keith’s cheek.

“I think,” Shiro says, bumping Keith’s nose with his own, “that would be a very good birthday gift.”

At that, something in Keith rears up, fierce and unstoppable. His free hand claws into the back of Shiro’s neck, and drags him in that last inch.

Their lips meet in an explosion of heat and desire that feels heavy. Immediately Shiro’s hands wrap around Keith, destroying the remaining space and Keith’s doubts all in one fail swoop. They come together, like it was meant to be, like it’s always been this easy.

The kiss is soft and then clumsy, bordering on messy with how hot they both are for it. Keith’s hand runs up into Shiro’s hair and he shifts them for a better angle. He licks into Shiro’s mouth.

Large hands tighten on his hips, and Shiro moans into his mouth.

And _fuck_ Keith’s hard. He’s still completely dressed, but with the barely-there fabric of Shiro’s lingerie, it’s easy to feel Shiro in a similar state against Keith. Keith lets go of the ring, and lets his hand wander down Shiro’s body to the straps across his hips.

“Fuck,” Keith hisses between increasingly molten kisses, “you’re so— I’ve wanted—“

Keith’s fingers pluck at the straps of Shiro’s panties. Shiro growls and nips at his bottom lip.

They kiss and kiss, and then break again to breathe ragged against each other’s mouths. That moment is weighty and full, lush with promise.

“Take me to bed,” Shiro orders.

Keith blinks his eyes open, dazed. “Are you sure?”

There’s a blistering kiss then, and Shiro grinding against him. Keith’s hand slides around the back of his hips, and he gets a hand on Shiro’s ass. His bare skin. His heart trips.

When they part this time Keith nearly shoves Shiro back onto the bed.

The man falls with a bounce and a laugh, and then he looks up and catches Keith’s eyes. Keith imagines that he must look like a smolder, because he feels it in his very bones.

“You want this?” Shiro asks him then. It’s a multi-leveled question, one that blurs in Keith’s head when Shiro leans further back on the bed and spreads his legs a little in invitation.

There’s nothing Keith has ever wanted more, and his fumbling brain spits that out. Shiro is reclined on the bed in lingerie that is not-at-all containing his modesty. It’s unbelievable. He should pinch himself.

Shiro’s chest heaves, straining against the fabric of the bralette and the panties—

 _Fuck_.

They’re doing so little now to contain Shiro’s cock. He’s completely hard, distending the fabric, and the glossy head is peeking out the top.

Shiro is here, offering himself up to Keith to look at. To touch.

To _keep going._

Keith takes a deep breath and tries to get a hold of himself. If this is a birthday gift, then he’s going to do it right by Shiro. He’s going to make sure this man gets everything he wants, and that starts with destroying any lingering fears he may have about what he’s wearing.

“But before we ruin your pretty lingerie,” Keith walks up to the edge of the bed, “I want a good look.”

Shiro looks down and then back up, sort of shy. “O-oh?”

Keith makes a slow, lascivious study of him up and down. “You got all dressed up, it’s only right.”

“Oh,” Shiro says again, this one less uncertain.

One knee on the bed now, Keith leans over him. He holds himself up on one hand and the other returns to the strap of the bralette. “It’s so pretty on you,” he says as he drags his hand across the lace, “we need to appreciate it.”

There’s a breathy sound from Shiro. Keith fingers the strap, sliding it across Shiro’s shoulder. He listens for any protest, but it doesn’t come, and Keith slides the strap off completely. It looks a little obscene, just that one strap hanging off Shiro’s shoulder. It looks _good._

Keith backtracks then to the lace pressing against the bulging muscles of Shiro’s chest. If asked before this, Keith wouldn’t have said he was a lingerie person. On a woman it was pretty enough, but it didn’t really… do it for him.

Keith throws out that faulty notion now. He is very, very into lingerie.

If Shiro is wearing it.

He touches the top lace of the bralette, feeling its silky texture and then Shiro’s hot skin beside it. “You look so good like this,” he says. His voice even to himself sounds a little dreamy. “Gorgeous, a little bit of a tease,” his finger runs over Shiro’s nipple that’s now peaked beneath the fabric.

“Nearly bursting out of it,” Keith meets the ring again and pushes it down into the dip between Shiro’s pectorals. Shiro makes a noise at the contact of the cold metal with his skin. Keith’s eyes watch as the tension of the fabric increases, straining against his huge chest.

Keith wants to eat him.

And then his hand is moving down again, across the bare planes of Shiro’s stomach. He’s so warm, a little sweaty. Keith swallows the saliva in his mouth. That will be soon, but first he wants to look and touch every part of Shiro looking like this. He wants the man to have no doubt about Keith’s approval.

Following the trail of hair down to the strappy panties is almost Keith’s undoing though. He doesn’t know what it is about the design, but it fucks with him. He touches one of the straps at Shiro’s hip, staying far away from the temptation of Shiro’s glossy cockhead peaking out.

“These are… especially nice,” Keith says. He plucks at the strap just to watch it snap back against Shiro’s skin.

“They’re comfortable,” Shiro says, breathless. Keith’s eyes go once again to his trapped cock. “The fabric is… soft,” Shiro adds.

He bets it is. Bets if he touched the silk over Shiro’s cock it would practically glide over that length with the softest sort of friction. Keith reminds himself to breathe. He tears his gaze away from where Shiro’s leaking, and meets the man’s eyes. Shiro is more pink than before, but his face has softened in arousal.

He swears under his breath. Keith is going to die here because Shiro is going to send him straight into cardiac arrest.

And what a way to go out.

His hand smoothes over Shiro’s hip next, feeling the straps and then the thickness of his thigh. He wanders across, to the inside of Shiro’s leg, and then mischievously, upward.

There’s a tension immediately in Shiro’s body, a sound like a hard breath. Keith’s hand moves up his inner thigh and stops just short of touching Shiro where they both want him to. The tension of it is too delicious.

“Turn over,” Keith says.

After a moment of stillness, Keith removes his hand. Shiro, clumsily, turns over.

Keith’s eyes drink in his other side. The bra straps cut lines across Shiro’s back, still lacy and soft against Shiro’s hardened muscles and the war scars. The panties—

_Fucking hell._

All the hip straps connect to the smallest, slightest bit of fabric here. It’s, for all intents and purposes, a thong.

Shiro, in a thong.

Keith’s hands are on the swell of his bare ass before he even knows what happened.

“Stars, you’re good enough to eat.” He squeezes Shiro’s ass, and then lets his hands slide up.

Shiro groans. “You could.”

Could—

Keith bends down and bites at his shoulder. “Be careful what you say.”

Shiro tilts his head, meeting Keith’s smolder. “I am.”

Keith bites him again for that one. “Is that what you want?” His hand drags back down to the little bit of lace at the top of Shiro’s ass. “Wouldn’t be that difficult wearing this, would it?” Keith follows the trail of lace down to just where it’s covering Shiro’s hole. “Just pull this little bit of lace over and—“ He trails off, petting at the lace.

Shiro makes a sound of _want_ that has Keith nearly shivering.

“Maybe… you could touch me first.”

Keith’s heart pounds. “Touch you here?”

“Yeah.”

Keith kisses his shoulder blade and then hauls himself up. “Okay,” he says like he’s steadying himself. “Up then.” He taps Shiro’s thigh to indicate just what he means. Shiro pushes himself up immediately, getting his knees underneath him but keeping his head down on the pillow.

The shape is so attractive Keith immediately bends and presses his lips to Shiro’s hip.

It’s a monumental effort after that to pull himself away and head to the bedside table. Keith makes a brief wish to the universe that Shiro keeps some sort of lubricant there, and sure enough the top drawer has a discreet tube. When he turns back to Shiro the man has turned his head in Keith’s direction and he nods a half-embarrassed and half-turned-on approval.

Keith crawls back on the bed. When he touches Shiro again it’s with a new sense of expectation. This is happening, for real. Him and Shiro. He can hardly believe it.

And like this. Shiro is dressed up like a fucking dessert for the senses. Keith palms his ass again.

“Keith,” comes Shiro’s breathy plea.

He shakes off his own daydreams and pops the cap on the lube. He takes another breathe, then another.

Then it really is that easy to pull aside the thong and touch Shiro there.

Shiro curses.

“Yeah,” Keith says. He feels as though he should be a little more in control, but it’s hard, maybe impossible with Shiro. It isn’t just sex. Not with Shiro. His heart is thumping hard, he doesn’t want to fuck this up. He wants Shiro to feel just as special and as cherished as he is inside Keith’s tender chest.

So he folds back over Shiro’s back, pressing a delicate kiss to his spine before he pushes in.

Shiro inside is… hot. Tight. The man pushes back against Keith’s finger, sliding it deeper into him. Keith can hardly believe it

“Is this okay?” Maybe a stupid question with how Shiro is clearly pushing back, wanting more, but Keith can’t help himself. His brain feels battered under this new unreality.

Shiro’s word of affirmative is soft, but full of feeling. Keith can feel the tension of his body beneath him, but it doesn’t seem to be nerves. Maybe he’s feeling this anticipation too, the coil winding around them in this room.

Keith pulls his finger back just to push back in with two. Emboldened, he fucks his fingers in, riding the wave of Shiro’s body as he moves into it, wanting. He reads Shiro just as he has for years, meets his energy with Keith’s own. They’re together in everything, even this.

Keith bites at his shoulder and then moves to brush his mouth against one of the lace straps of the bra. He wishes then that Shiro was still on his back, so he could kiss those lips again.

“More,” Shiro says.

Keith’s free hand scrapes down Shiro’s side, and catches on the straps across his hips. “Fuck, you’re going to kill me.”

There’s a whuff of laugher, and then Shiro turning his head more to try and see Keith’s expression. Keith pulls out his two fingers and returns with three. Pressing them deep allows him to arch a little further up and drop a kiss just on Shiro’s temple. Shiro moans.

“You look good like this, getting fingered in your lacy panties,” Keith says, because it’s the truth.

Shiro turns his face back into the bedding, but the rhythmic squeezing around Keith’s fingers tells him that the comment hit its mark.

“Did you think about something like this when you bought them? You had to know you’d look good enough to eat. Anyone who could see you like this would want you.” But no one else will. A possessiveness rises in Keith then, because of just how true that statement is. Shiro is stunning on a normal day, and he’s drop dead gorgeous like this. Keith’s hands dig into his hip as he fucks his fingers back into Shiro’s hole.

If Shiro will have him, then Keith’s eyes alone will be the only ones to see Shiro like this. He’ll make sure.

Shiro groans into the sheets. “I didn’t— didn’t think anyone would—“

Keith’s teeth sink then into his shoulder, too sharp, but he cuts that horrible sentence off.

“They would. Anyone would,” Keith says when he lets go. There’s indents in Shiro’s skin, but he can’t find it in himself to be sorry. That prickly anger is inside him, but now years and experience later, Keith recognizes it as more Galra instinct than anything else. He licks where he bit and then finally, gets an angle with his fingers that has Shiro crying out.

“But they won’t,” Keith says then, the words falling out of his mouth end over end at witnessing Shiro losing himself like this. Keith rubs at his prostate, holding Shiro still when his body tries to arch and curl. “They won’t see you like this because you’re _mine_ , are you?”

Shiro gasps, and his hands fist the sheets. “Keith—!”

Keith noses up to his throat, the back of his ear. “Are you? Are you mine?”

Shiro tries to twist then, but meets Keith’s unmovable hold. “Yes! Yes— Keith— I—“

Keith fingers that spot inside him a little more, memorizing the way he sounds, how he moves when Keith is giving him such pleasure. It’s the biggest power trip he’s ever experienced, despite the time piloting a giant cat robot and saving the universe. There’s nothing else like loving Shiro, and he wants it forever.

Then Shiro tugs again and Keith pulls back, letting his fingers slip out of Shiro. A moment later Shiro is turning beneath him and tugging him back in.

The kiss this time is smoldering. Pressed against Shiro’s body, Keith can feel his hardness, can feel the desperation in how he clutches at Keith. Keith is just as bad. He falls on Shiro, devouring him with teeth and tongue and hands. His fingers are still wet with lube that he smears against Shiro’s ribcage, but neither of them care. It’s much more pressing to slide his tongue against Shiro’s, nibble his lip, and pull intoxicating sigh after sigh from his mouth.

“I’m yours too,” Keith says when he gets a breath. “I’ve always been.”

Shiro’s human hand slides up through his hair, a toe-curling pleasantness that is only overshadowed then by the urgent kiss Shiro pulls him into. “Same,” Shiro says when they part. “I didn’t know— I thought maybe you didn’t want to. Maybe we’d missed our timing.”

“Never,” Keith says it like a swear. His clean hand is against Shiro’s cheek and his thumb traces the line of Shiro’s smile. “We just took the long way around.”

This makes Shiro laugh. “And you opened my mail.”

At this Keith bows his head into Shiro’s throat. “I swear it was an accident! I was waiting for a package, and I didn’t even look before opening it.”

“It’s okay,” Shiro’s hand runs down his spine, rousing nerves in its wake. “It’s turning out pretty fantastic thus far.”

Keith peeks up. “Thus far?”

There’s a shifting then, highlighting what has been left unsatisfied between them.

That gets Keith right back on track. “Ah, yeah. I still owe you a birthday gift, don’t I?”

Shiro snorts. “Only if you want to,” he says cheekily.

Keith likes this, the Shiro he knows and loves back to full form. He hopes he’s chased off that insecurity for good, but if not it will be no hardship for Keith to tackle it once more. He wants Shiro to have everything he wants. Keith drops a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “I do.”

He pushes himself back up onto his forearms then to get a good look at Shiro. He’s more flushed now, his cockhead sticking completely out of the lace panties. The sticky spill of his precome is everywhere and dampening Keith’s shirt. It’s so fucking hot he gets stuck just looking for moments longer.

And the sight is better now too for knowing just how Shiro tastes, how hot and tight he is wrapped around his fingers, and the obscene sound of his moans as Keith touches him.

“Keith,” Shiro says, drawing his attention back of. “I want you to fuck me.”

It’s probably where they were heading, some form of sex, but the words from Shiro’s mouth are— they nearly bowl Keith over. All of it is like dream that Keith’s afraid he’s going to wake from any moment and find himself hard but alone in his own bed.

“Oh.” Keith says, then, “Fuck.”

Then Shiro has the lube and is handing it off to him. Keith takes it and pushes himself up further, onto his knees. Below, on the bed, Shiro is spread out before him.

“I want you like this,” Keith says, because while seeing Shiro on his knees was _something,_ for this first time he wants… closeness. He wants to be able to see Shiro’s face and kiss him.

Shiro shifts his legs to allow Keith more room between them. “Okay,” he says. His eyes are hooded now, and he licks his lips. “Just like this?”

His metal hand is just at his own waist, and Keith knows he means the lingerie.

“Yeah,” Keith breathes, watching as that metal hand creeps further in.

“You like it a lot, don’t you?” Shiro’s hand traces the edge of the panties, stopping just short of his own protruding cock. Instead he wanders down, metal sliding smooth against the sheer fabric.

Keith nods stupidly, and then gets off the bed to strip. He’s still wearing jeans, and at this point it’s a constant low-grade agony.

But it becomes another game between them. Keith unbuttons his jeans, and Shiro touches himself. Keith pushes down his pants, clumsily stepping out of them, and Shiro’s fingers graze over one of his own nipples.

They’re watching each other, gathering the tension like spider silk. Keith gets his shirt up and over his head only to see Shiro playing with one of the straps on his shoulder. It’s not a strip tease, because it’s not done with that kind of performative flare, instead Shiro is just touching himself, touching the lace. It’s honest and intimate, and it winds Keith up like nothing else.

By the time he’s shoving his underwear down, he can’t think of anything else but falling back into bed with Shiro.

“You look good,” Shiro says when Keith retakes his kneeling positon between his legs.

“That’s my line,” Keith shoots back. He takes the lube and palms himself, the pleasure of it reverberating through him. It’s been a while now, and Keith hasn’t had a thought for himself. All that repressed want comes rushing in.

“Feel good?” Shiro says.

Keith blinks his eyes open, confused as to when he closed them. “Yeah.”

Shiro’s eyes look him up and down. The sun has almost set outside the window, and the room is now a deep blue. It doesn’t bother Keith, he can still see Shiro perfectly. The white lace practically glows in the gathering darkness.

Keith scoots forward, like a moth to that flame. He takes Shiro’s thighs and hauls them up onto his own hips. The motion makes Keith wonder about stockings, if Shiro would be into them, if Keith would even be able to control himself seeing that same sheer lace across Shiro’s thick thighs.

_Focus._

Keith curls down over Shiro when his knees dig in. Their eyes, when they meet, spark.

“Just like this?” Keith checks again.

“Just like this,” Shiro breathes, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him into a soft, blistering kiss.

Without Keith’s clothes between them, their meeting is a revelation of hot skin and need. Keith grinds down with an agonized sound, tasting Shiro on his tongue and feeling the shift of delicate silk. It’s decadent and filthy at the same time. Shiro opens himself up to Keith, and Keith does the same.

“Keith,” Shiro whispers when Keith moves off his mouth to suck kisses down his throat. “Keith, please!”

And how is Keith to resist such an entreaty? He shifts down a little and then reaches for his own cock. Shiro’s knees squeeze him in anticipation.

He lines himself up easily, nudging the silk aside. The thought of it is burning, choking. Keith is a house on fire, and he wants to burn to the ground for this wondrous man. Shiro makes some sound that perfectly captures how Keith feels. Then he pushes in.

Coming together like this is almost too much for Keith. He bows his head into Shiro’s shoulder as tight heat surrounds him. Shiro moans and the knees around Keith squeeze and encourage him in. Keith pushes his cock in deeper and deeper and—

His hips touch skin and silk. He’s in. All in. Keith swallows thickly, and his cock is urging him to— to—

“Move,” Shiro says. Yeah. _Move_.

Inside Shiro.

 _Fuck_.

Keith does. He pulls out and then pushes back in, the slide slick and perfect. He does it again at the sound it rips from Shiro’s lips.

“You—“ Keith says, as he begins to rut into Shiro, driven by their stacking pleasure.

“ _Ah_!” Shiro says.

The angle has Keith just far enough that he can’t kiss those lips as they part with moans. He mourns it only a moment and then gathers that Galra strength he’s known for. At the next push in, Keith hikes Shiro’s knees up just a little more and bends him further. The strike then is perfect.

Shiro clutches him with a desperate keen, and Keith is close enough to drag his teeth across Shiro’s earlobe.

“Like that babe?”

Shiro curses.

Keith keeps it up, kissing down to Shiro’s throat while he fucks him. Before long he’s sweating and near panting with the strain of keeping it together. Shiro is tight and clutching around his cock, and the moans are wanton in Keith’s ears.

He shifts back then to take Shiro in fully once more. It also frees up Keith’s hands to slide back up Shiro’s torso and to the white lace top.

“I want you like this,” Keith says, stuck on the picture before him. His claws dig into the lace over Shiro’s chest. “I want to see the rest. All the ones in the package.” Two stiff peaks stick out from the lace, and Keith can’t help plucking at them. Shiro groans and pushes up into his hands. Keith thumbs one nipple, hips fucking in harder, driven on by how wild it makes Shiro. “I’ll buy you more,” Keith babbles, “whatever you want, I want it. I want it. I want it all.”

And then a heavy hand is wrapping around the back of his neck and dragging him down, ruining the rhythm, but Keith can’t give a single fuck because then Shiro is kissing him hard and deep and—

“Yes,” Shiro says when he pulls back. His voice is throaty.

Yes…?

Keith’s brain is a fog of arousal, he tries to rewind it back.

But Shiro beats him there, always right beside Keith to pick him up when he falters. “I want it too. Everything. Everything with you.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Keith… doesn’t mean to, but beneath one of his hands, the lace tears. He hears it as he presses Shiro back down into the sheets and kisses him breathless.

Then the rhythm is back, but something much more brutish. They’re grabbing at each other, moving as one. Keith is all teeth and claws, but Shiro moans and arches and _wants._ The lace is in shreds beneath his hands, but he fucks Shiro with everything he has.

It’s blinding, this desire. Everything else goes in the chaos, and Keith only has eyes for Shiro, Shiro, Shiro. The pleasure is like an oncoming storm, it prickles across his skin as it rumbles closer.

“Ke— I—I love—“

Something snaps. Keith fucks in hard, snatching the confession off Shiro’s lips with a fanged kiss. He can taste it, the words, the feeling, the culmination of something so much larger than one or two moments.

Shiro makes a low, wonderful sound, and then the tight clench of him on Keith ripples. He’s comes without a hand on him, spilling between their bodies, soaking the lace and his stomach.

Keith fucks him through it, the last shreds of his own endurance falling to pieces as he witnesses it. Shiro’s a gorgeous, debauched picture and it’s all for Keith. It’s all _because_ of Keith.

Keith buries his face in Shiro’s shoulder at the thought of it. It’s too much, too impossible. He’s wanted this for long, long and—and—

And Shiro loves—

He thrusts once, twice more, and then his own end rushes up to meet him.

Shiro hums as Keith pushes deep and bites into his shoulder, nearly slicing through the lace strap still there. The pleasure is static and rippling and go, so, so good. He grunts and groans and rubs his cheek against Shiro’s neck nonsensically.

He only comes back to himself when the hazy aftershocks have dwindles to nothing, and he becomes aware of his physical body once more. Sore, sweaty, sticky with… fluids. He pushes himself up on wobbly forearms, his cock sliding out of Shiro. He can feel the slick come that leaks out. Because they…

He looks at Shiro, who is looking up at him with that terribly fond smile.

And his lip is bleeding.

“Shiro!” Keith at once fumbles up, and then spies the bite on Shiro’s shoulder, reddened and moving toward a nasty bruise. The lingerie is shredded to unrecognizability. His own come is sticky and smeared all over his stomach.

The man looks like he’s been mauled by a wild animal instead of made love to like he deserves.

“I’m so fucking sorry!” Keith reaches for Shiro’s shoulder, but then stops short, afraid of Shiro’s rightful rejection.

Instead Shiro chuckles. “Keith, Keith it’s fine! Great actually,” he licks his lip and clears the blood. “I was uh… into that. Especially that bit at the end,” he reaches for Keith’s hand and places it deliberately on the bite. “It was hot.”

Keith blinks at him. “But I… ruined your lingerie.” He hates that it still looks kind of sexy with only one strap, and torn open on the left side to bare Shiro’s nipple. That possessive Galra thing inside Keith is nearly preening at the sight.

“Well it’s a good thing I bought a bunch,” Shiro says. He pulls Keith back in then, sitting up so they’re both facing each other on the bed. “And you said you were going to get me more…?”

This is said a little bit uncertain, his tone lilting at the end. It’s then that Keith remembers in the moment he never returned the words.

“I love you,” he blurts. Then he realizes that wasn’t exactly what Shiro was asking. “I mean yes. Yes, and I love you. Too. I love you too.”

Shiro’s smile is brilliant, even as it causes the small cut in his lip to bleed fresh. Keith hopes it’s not too gross if he kisses the man then, because he can’t seem to help himself.

The enthusiasm carries them down into the sheets where Keith kisses him and kisses him.

It’s just as the kisses are beginning to get hotter, that maybe they’re moving toward a second round, that there’s a loud knock at their front door.

They part, casting a glance in the direction as though they could see who would dare disturb them. There’s another knock, and just as Keith is deciding to ignore it in favorite of his new favorite pastime, Shiro pushes him back.

“Go get the door.”

Keith huffs and pouts, but is already getting up off the bed.

“But don’t take too long,” Shiro says as Keith snatches up his boxers and pulls them on. “I’m going to try another set on.”

That gets Keith nearly tripping on his rush to the front door, barely paying any attention as the delivery guy there hands him a package. He’s all too happy that it’s a minimal interruption as he’s hurrying back to the bedroom hoping to catch—

And he does. Just as he gets to the doorway he gets a spectacular view of Shiro facing away from him, bent at he pushes his ruined panties down. Keith’s come drips down the insides of his thighs, and Keith knows exactly what he wants to do then, new outfit be damned.

“Who was it?” Shiro says, turning around like he knows exactly how he looks and what it’s doing to Keith. The confidence on him now is everything.

The delivery is still in hand so Keith holds it aloft, his brain a little scattered by Shiro, completely nude, prowling toward him with that look on his face.

“Do I get to open some of your mail now?” He smiles and takes the package from Keith.

If there had been a single moment of thought spared, Keith should have been able to guess what was in this package. It was what he’d thought he had been opening earlier.

Shiro tears the package open easily, and when he tips it, into his hand slides a pair of keys. They are unmistakably hoverbike keys. Shiro’s eyes shoot up to his.

“Oh, that was supposed to be a surprise,” Keith says, his heart thumping from the look of joy already spreading on Shiro’s face. “For your birthday.”

“Wow,” Shiro says.

“Surprise,” Keith says. Stupidly he’s blushing, he feels more cracked open now that Shiro knows how he feels. It’s a big gift, too big a gift for just a friendship. Obvious now.

Shiro kisses him then, a sweet thing that just drips love. It leaves Keith breathless.

“Thank you,” Shiro says when they part, breathing it nearly into Keith’s mouth. For some reason Keith knows he’s not being thanked for the bike. His chest is tight with how much love he’s kept stuffed inside for Shiro.

“There’s dinner too,” Keith adds, fumbling as Shiro steps back and guides him back onto the bed.

“Then let’s work up an appetite,” it’s night now, the room near dark, but still Shiro glows. Keith follows his brilliant smile down into the sheets, letting them fall together finally with aching intention. He kisses Shiro for all that he’s worth, and finds it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Because Shiro deserves something nice for his birthday. 
> 
> I'm @an_aphorism on twitter, where I'm retweeting art of Shiro in lingerie that inspired this fic.


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